


Makeup

by William_Easley



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/William_Easley/pseuds/William_Easley
Summary: This is a direct sequel to my story "Breakup," which should be read first. In the aftermath of Wendy's breakup with Robbie and her anger at Dipper's insensitivity, Dipper attempts to mend the fences.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Makeup

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the show Gravity Falls or any of the characters. They are the property of the Walt Disney Company and of the show's creator, Alex Hirsch. I earn no money from writing my fanfictions; I do them out of love for the show, for practice writing, and to amuse myself and, I hope, other readers.

* * *

**Makeup**

**By William Easley**

After Wendy's huge quarrel with Dipper—he had been insensitive, first alerting Wendy to Robbie's trickery with a back-masked song intended to hypnotize her, and then Dipper had cheerfully asked her to go bowling with him and Grunkle Stan—it took a couple of days for things between them to return to nearly normal. She had become exasperated again with him, though not as strongly, the first day because he was trying too hard.

Dipper had found her at the bus stop, ready to leave town for her cousin Steve's logging camp somewhere up north, either in Oregon or Washington State. Dipper wasn't sure which, and he didn't know why Wendy hated the very thought of working in the camp. Anyway, she had tentatively decided to stay in Gravity Falls and had walked with Dipper from the bus stop to her job in the Shack, and since she had not packed a lunch, Dipper had volunteered to make her a sandwich.

At 12:30, he had relieved her at the cash register, and in the dining room she found what he had prepared for her: brisket on a brioche bun with onions and creamy horseradish sauce, with sides of potato salad and coleslaw, accompanied by a frosty Pitt Cola. When she came back after her meal, she said, "Dude, don't, OK?"

"What?" Dipper asked, surprised.

"You walked all the way to town and back to get me that meal. Think I don't recognize a Yumberjack's Lumberjack Sandwich Special?"

"I—I thought you'd like it," Dipper stammered.

"Yeah, it was good, but I just expected like a baloney and cheese sandwich, something easy for you to make. I didn't think you'd walk a mile and a half there, spend like eight bucks, and then walk a mile and a half back."

"I wanted to," he said. "I didn't mean to make you mad—"

"I'm not mad," she said with a sigh. "It's just—you try too hard, man. Anyway, thanks for the sandwich. How'd you keep it hot?"

"I just warmed it in the oven," Dipper said. "Three hundred degrees for about ten minutes. And I had them put the sauce in one of those little plastic tubs, so after it was heated, I put the sauce on."

Wendy yawned. "It was good," she said. "But you don't have to go to so much trouble."

"Want to take a nap?" Dipper asked. He knew Wendy hadn't slept at all the night before, stirred up as she was over Robbie's treachery and his own emotional clumsiness. Neither had he, but he wasn't sleepy.

"Wish I could," she said. "But, no. I don't want Stan to fire me. Then I'd be right back to traveling up to the lumber camp for the rest of the summer."

"I don't think he'd fire you," Dipper said. "I'll take the register for a couple of hours if you want to go up to the attic and try to sleep a little. Mabel's up. She and Candy and Grenda went off somewhere right after she ate lunch, so it should be quiet. You could stretch out on her bed if you want." When she looked thoughtful but didn't say yes or no, he added, "If I'm trying too hard, I'm sorry, but—I don't know about these things. I'll try to do better."

"What things?" she asked, sounding amused.

"How girls feel," he said. "I just—except for Mabel, I never had any girl around me that, you know, would talk to me. I don't know stuff like that. That's why I hurt your feelings. Anyway, I'll relieve you if you want to have a cat nap. No obligation or anything."

"Maybe I'd be in a better mood," she said. "OK, Dip, you're on. Take over the register and call me—" she glanced at the clock—"at three."

"Got it," he said.

* * *

Up in the attic, Wendy pulled off her boots. Mabel had left the bed unmade, so Wendy spread the coverlet out, got a spare blanket from the closet where once something that was not a possum had given the kids a bad shock, took off her trapper's hat, and lay down on Mabel's bed. It was really only to rest, because daylight streamed in through the triangular window, and it was far too bright to go . . . she turned on her side, facing the wall . . . to go . . . to . . . sleep . . ..

The next thing she knew, Dipper was saying softly, "Wendy?"

"Mmph?" she asked. She opened her eyes. "Um. Three o'clock already?"

"Uh, no," Dipper said. "It's six."

She swung her legs off the bed. "Six o'clock? I thought you were gonna—"

"I looked in at three," Dipper said. "But you were sound asleep, and you looked so happy. I mean, there was a little smile on your face, and I wasn't tired, and there weren't that many tourists, so I didn't mind taking your turn at the register, and Grunkle Stan didn't notice you were gone, so . . . so I let you sleep."

She stretched. The brain-fog was fading. Two hours of sleep would have been nice, five was almost enough. "Well—thanks," she said.

"You're welcome. Oh." He reached down to the floor. "Here's your fur hat. I guess it must've fallen off the bed."

"Yeah. Help me put on my boots?"

Dipper tugged them on, and Wendy tugged them up, then sort of stamped into them. "Good enough. I better head for home—have to cook for my dad and brothers. Unless Dad stops to buy a pizza or some deal. Far as he knows, I'm off at Steve's lumber camp."

She had stashed her bedroll and a huge backpack in the attic after Dipper had talked her out of boarding the northbound bus. She gathered them up, Dipper helped her into the backpack, and then they walked downstairs together.

On the porch, Dipper tentatively asked, "So—see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Wendy said. "Oh, wait. The Shack's closed tomorrow. See you day after tomorrow, Dipper."

"Right, right," he said. "Hey, wait a minute."

He vanished inside and came back with Soos. "Soos is about to go home, too," Dipper said. "He'll drive you home in his truck so you won't have to walk all that way with the backpack."

"Yeah," Soos said. "Happy to be of service or whatever!"

"It's out of your way," Wendy pointed out.

Soos laughed. "Oh, dude, that's all right. I can find my house from your place. I know right where I live!"

"If it's not too much trouble," Wendy said. Soos took the backpack and bedroll from her and put them in the bed of the pickup.

"Hey, Soos," Dipper said as Soos started the truck, "don't forget that tomorrow we're gonna try to get a picture of that flying monster."

"Oh, yeah! Soos said. The Puh-terodactyl. I'll be here, Dipper! You, like, get the cameras ready!"

That evening Grunkle Stan took Dipper and Mabel out to the little clearing where they sometimes had bonfires, and they cooked hot dogs over a campfire. "Just as good as goin' to a fancy restaurant," Stan said. "And plus that, it's cheaper!"

They headed back down the Mystery Trail as full night stole in. "I wanna find a glass jar with a real wide mouth," Mabel said. "Look at all the fireflies!"

"Nuh-uh," Grunkle Stan said. "There ain't any real fireflies in Oregon. The kind we got don't light up in the air, but just crawling around in the grass, and they're not as bright as these things."

"This one time," Mabel said, "Mom and Dad took us to Orlando to visit Nanny Pines, and we got to go to Disney World. That was in the summer."

"It was really hot," Dipper said.

"Yeah, and there was a thunderstorm every day, only it only lasted twenty minutes, but the thing at night was all the real bright fireflies, millions of them, and they lit up this real bright yellowy-greeny color. What are these bugs if they're not fireflies?"

"Fairies," Stan said.

Mabel squee'd.

"Yargh! Feedback in my hearing aid!" Stan complained. "I'm not kiddin. Little teeny winged people. But don't try to catch them, they're vicious."

"They're bugs!" Dipper said.

"They only look like bugs. Try swattin' one," Stan said.

"I'll just wave real close," Mabel said. When one of the bobbing lights came close, she took a hard swipe at it but barely missed, on purpose.

"Hey!" rang out a tiny voice. "Watch out!"

Immediately from all around the other flying creatures began to screech, "Hey! Hello! Watch out! Listen!"

"Annoying!" Mabel said.

"Yeah, and their fangs are mildly venomous, too," Stan said. "Come on, they'll lose interest if we just walk away fast."

The last of the creatures buzzed off as the kids and their grunkle got to the shack. Mabel had a snack—some chocolate cake and milk—and Dipper and Stan sat in the parlor with the TV on, playing a re-re-re-rerun of an old Western TV show. "Whatcha got on your mind, Dip?" Stan asked.

"Does it show?"

"Well, yeah, kinda," Stan said. "I saw how you took over from Wendy this afternoon. What's up with that?"

"Aw—" Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. "She, I just—it's complicated."

"Always is with girls," Stan said. "Spill it."

Dipper told Stan everything—how Wendy had been so upset she was ready to leave Gravity Falls and go up to work in a lumber camp, how he barely managed to talk her out of it, just everything.

Stan whistled. "She musta been really pissed off. You know, I made up this cashier job for her 'cause Dan was gonna send her up to Washington or wherever just to punish her for havin' friends like that Robbie guy. But he told her if she could find a job in town, she wouldn't have to go. I felt sorry for her, so I took her on. She'd be great if she was a little greedier and a little less lazy. But, man, she hates that lumber camp!"

"I didn't mean to make her mad at me," Dipper said. "How do you figure out what girls want, Grunkle Stan?"

"My advice? Don't try. Did you apologize to her?"

"I tried," Dipper said. "But I don't know if she forgave me or not. And then when I tried to be nice to her by buying her lunch, she acted like she was ticked off again."

"She's just moody," Stan said. "Lemme tell ya the worst. The worst time is when your girlfriend or wife or whoever is just ignoring you, ya know? So ya ask 'What's the matter, sugar dumpling?' And she sniffs and tosses her head and says 'Nothing!' Here, I'll show you. Pretend I'm a girl and you like me. Ask me how come I'm mad?"

"How come you're mad?" Dipper asked innocently.

"Hmpf!" Stan said. "Why do you think?"

"I . . . don't know!" Dipper said. "That's why I asked you."

"You know!" Stan said.

"Uh, no I don't."

"Well!" Stan said coldly, tossing his head. "If you don't know, I'm certainly not going to tell you!"

Dipper felt dizzy. "I don't understand any of this! I thought I was smart enough to get it, but—"

Stan fell out of character. "Don't worry, Dip. It's a lucky guy who learns how to understand girls. Yeah, you're smart. You remind me so much of—of a guy I used to know when I was about your age. Brainy as anything, but kinda awkward and shy, especially around girls. He was the type would go up to a girl at a dance and thinkin' to compliment her, would say something like, 'Hey, your acne's clearing up nice!' And get a punch in the face."

"She hit him?" Dipper asked.

Looking surprised, Stan said, "No, no, she threw a glass of punch in his face. You should've seen him!"

"Who was he?" Dipper asked.

Stan stared at him for a moment. "Funny, but I forgot his name. Just, you know, a Poindexter. You know what that word means, Poindexter?"

Dipper shook his head.

"It's a guy who's got lots of brains but don't know how to use 'em," Stan said. He cleared his throat. "Smart with books, but hopeless around . . . other people. But you'll be better than he was. You got a sister to support you and help you out with this stuff. Understand?"

"Um—sure," Dipper said, though he was thinking, _Maybe it's because I haven't slept in twenty-four hours._

* * *

The next day was something else again. Stanford Pines (at that time Dipper and Mabel didn't yet know the truth about their grunkle) was watching over Waddles, and then a Pteranodon (which both Dipper and Soos thought was a Pterodactyl) had stolen the pig, and in the end they had to chase the creature into the caverns that connected to the old mines and—

OK, short version, they got Waddles back, and Old Man McGucket ate his way out of a baby dinosaur, only Pteranodons technically weren't dinosaurs, but sort of second cousins to dinosaurs—not so short a version. It turned out all right, and Grunkle Stan even punched out the Pteranodon to rescue the pig, and the adventure came to a kind of sappy end. Also, they destroyed a church, but it was in ruins anyway.

And the day after that was a work day, and Wendy showed up (on time!) with her brown-bag lunch. She sat behind the counter, propped up her heels, and started reading her _Indie Fuzz_ magazine. No tourists showed up for a while, and Wendy took out her phone and read a text from Tambry, but then Mabel started telling her about the adventure with the flying dinosaur—she wasn't too clear on the details and wasn't a paleontologist—

Anyway, she called Dipper over. "Tell Wendy about the big flying flappy thing!" she said.

"Oh, she doesn't want, you know, to hear—" Dipper said.

Wendy said, "Sure I do, man! I'm always interested in weird stuff."

"Oh. Well—it's a Pterodactyl. Wait a minute, I'll get my dinosaur book." He ran upstairs and found it and brought it back down. "Here, Wendy, see? It's a flying reptile. This one, I found out, isn't a Pterodactyl, but a related species, a Pteranodon."

"And Grunkle Stan jumped on its neck and rode it like a broncking bucko! Or whatever it is!" Mabel said.

"Yeah, and he punched it right in the eye—like this!" Dipper said, demonstrating.

Wendy said, "Oh, man, I wish I'd seen that! You guys gotta let me go along on one of your investigations some time."

"And then we had to jump in these geysers—" Dipper broke off. "Wait, what? Really? You'd go on an investigation, even after what I did?"

She nodded. "Sure," she said. "We're friends, aren't we?"

It wasn't what Dipper would have hoped to hear, but at that point, it was more than he hoped to hear. Something broke inside him—and it felt as if a weight had fallen from his heart.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Wendy's answer was simple—just a smile.

But it might mean things were all right between them again.

And immediately Dipper began to worry that he might not be able to keep them that way.

However, he did return her smile.

* * *

The End


End file.
